The Sacred Dying
by Fiorenza-a
Summary: Kirk headed into the transporter room - finding Spock waiting for him. McCoy hurried in at the last minute. Old school Trek for those that like it that way.
1. Sacred Dying - Chapter 1

The Enterprise held a high and steady orbit round Cestros 12. Cestros 12 had expressed an interest in joining the Federation. The Federation had ordered the Enterprise to open negotiations. A routine mission.

As he had at the beginning of so many other missions, Kirk headed into the transporter room expecting, and finding, Spock to be waiting for him. The Vulcan stood impassively on the transporter pad as Kirk stepped up to take his place beside him. McCoy hurried in at the last minute as Kirk turned to face the operator. McCoy's scowl was broadcasting his twin irritations. Firstly, that he had been dragged away from what he was convinced was more important work. Secondly, and perennially, at having to use a mode of transport which involved his atoms being disassembled and reassembled in a thoroughly indecent fashion.

As soon as McCoy had taken his place on the transporter, and before the Doctor could give voice to either of his frustrations, Kirk gave the order ''Energise'' and the three of them shimmered from sight.

They arrived in a clearing in landscaped parkland. A marble folly stood nearby. Columns and marble benches arranged in a semi-circle. Kirk looked round for any sign of a welcoming party whilst Spock's insatiable curiosity already had him scanning the folly with his tricorder.

''Despite its appearance, that of white marble, it is in fact manufactured from something akin to cement'' he said for the general edification. And then, touching the structure experimentally with his figures and finding it cool to the touch ''Fascinating.''

McCoy, whose scowl had transported down intact, was hovering between the Captain and the First Officer with growing impatience. ''Why does Premier Varek want me dancing attendance?'' he said ''I'm a Doctor not a diplomat.''

''Have patience Bones'' said Kirk ''they must have their reasons and, for now, my orders are to humour them. The people of this planet have a highly evolved and cultured civilization and if they wish to join the Federation, the Federation is pleased to consider it. My job and yours is to facilitate this if possible, to discuss it at any rate.''

McCoy didn't seem particularly mollified by this but he found the grace to say ''Well, anyway, there's no denying it is beautiful. I wonder where everyone is?''

As if expecting the cue, a muted fanfare sounded some way away, then again a little nearer. A pause and then the sound of hooves and carriage wheels became audible. Two carriages came into view, rounding the bend in the pathway between the artfully planted trees. The animals pulling them appeared for all the world like a cross between a llama and a unicorn. An enchanting and somewhat disconcerting sight, like something out of a fairy tale. In the lead carriage sat a willowy, graceful woman of mature years.

''Premier Varek?'' enquired McCoy of his Captain under his breath as Spock moved to join them.

''No'' said Kirk ''we've spoken, the Premier is not a woman. This could be his deputy, Representative Tissoh. In any case, best behaviour please gentlemen.''

They stood together as the carriages came to a halt in front of them. A liveried manservant stepped down from the lead carriage and opened the door for the lady within, assisting her to alight. She stepped down to stand before Kirk. ''Captain Kirk?'' she enquired. Kirk inclined his head with formality; both bow and acknowledgement. ''Good'' she said ''I am Representative Tissoh, I have the honour to serve Premier Varek and to welcome you to our world on his behalf.'' She gestured toward the second carriage which now stood with its door open, another liveried servant waiting patiently beside it. ''Please'' she said, gesturing for them to get in. They did as they were bidden. Representative Tissoh regained her seat and the two carriages moved off in the direction from which they had come.

After a pleasant twenty minutes driving through tranquil parkland a grand marble portico came into view between the trees. As they moved closer Spock scanned it with his tricorder. ''Of the same material as the folly'' he said. ''Of some antiquity too, Captain.'' The carriages halted before a stately residence, which the marble portico fronted. Heavy, richly dyed silk hangings graced either side of the imposing entrance, moving gently with the warm breeze. The liveried servants assisted the parties to the ground before driving away with the carriages.

Representative Tissoh led the way in. The imposing entrance led into an equally imposing hall dominated by a grand staircase. On either side doors led into unseen rooms. Representative Tissoh walked purposefully to one of the doors. The heavy door swung easily and silently open at her touch. Beyond the door was a spacious sitting room. More rich silk and richly ornamented furniture filled the interior. Either side of the room stood open doors leading to four bed chambers. Opposite, large full length windows led onto a terrace and a private formal courtyard garden. A table and chairs, again festooned with rich silk, stood on the terrace. The table was set with plate of gold and silver and laden with exotic foods. Rock crystal ewers enticed with refreshing and mildly intoxicating beverages. Spock's tricorder passed all as safe. ''Vegetarian cuisine'' he noted with satisfaction.

Representative Tissoh smiled and said ''Eat. Rest. Premier Varek will attend you this evening'' and with that she withdrew back through the sitting room and out into the great hall, leaving them to their leisurely meal.

Kirk was not a natural vegetarian but he found the food much to his liking and surprisingly satisfying. As apparently did McCoy, whose mood was transformed. ''Well this is more like it Jim boy'' he said beaming. Even Spock seemed to be enjoying himself.

After the meal Kirk and McCoy each retired to one of the bed chambers. Long service in Starfleet had taught them to take their rest where they could get it. Spock also took a room, but did not sleep. He stood at the open window drinking in the warm air filled with the subtle and sweet scents of unseen flowers. Spock allowed himself few sensual pleasures, viewing them, with typical Vulcan suspicion, as a distraction from the discipline of logic. But he could be, and on occasion allowed himself to be, moved by beauty. He shut his eyes. His acute hearing picking up the sound of distant birdsong; it would not have been audible to human ears. Had he been human he would have smiled, but he was not. Or at least he had chosen long ago not to be, and even alone and unseen he would not and did not smile.

He could feel the late afternoon sun warming his hands and his face and was aware of the gentle buzz of flying insects. One of them landed on the back of his hand and he opened his eyes to examine it more closely. Raising his hand to his eyes, he marvelled at the scintillating jewel-like colours of its wing casing. Tiny. Exquisite. Perfect. It crawled over his skin as if exploring a new planet. There was enough of the philosopher in Spock for him to recognise a kindred mission in the little beetle. It continued its exploration for a second or two longer and then flew off as abruptly as it had landed. It was only then that Spock realised it had bitten him.

He turned away from the window. He had left his tricorder on the bed. He made to move towards it but his knees gave way under him and he fell heavily. He was briefly aware of his head hitting the floor and then all awareness was gone.

When McCoy found him nearly ninety minutes later his breathing was already shallow, his pulse weak.


	2. Sacred Dying - Chapter 2

McCoy, running his medical tricorder over the prone Vulcan, looked up ''It's not good Jim. He's in trouble. I'm picking up some sort of toxin.'' McCoy had placed one of the richly coloured cushions under Spock's head, but he was still on the floor. The bright colour of the silk contrasting horribly with the pallor of the complexion it framed.

Kirk flipped open his communicator. ''Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise'' he said urgently. No response. He turned up the gain and tried once more. No response. ''I can't raise them'' he said unnecessarily.

''We should get him to the bed Jim. He would be more comfortable there'' said McCoy. Kirk dropped to one knee beside Spock, slipping his arm under the Vulcan's arm and behind his back, raising him up to a more convenient angle. The Vulcan's head lolled heavily against him as McCoy, from the other side, linked his arm with the Captain's. Linking their free arms under the Vulcan's legs, and with his dead weight between them, they rose as one and carried him to the bed. They set him down at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, while Kirk manoeuvred his head to rest on the pillows. Finally, McCoy swung his legs up onto the bed. Spock had not moved or uttered a sound. McCoy was now a very worried man.

Kirk flipped open his communicator once more and went outside into the courtyard garden. ''Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise.'' He tried a number of times in different parts of the garden. Nothing. Frustration was beginning to gnaw at his nerves. He strode back inside and startled McCoy, who had been concentrating on his patient, by snatching the Doctor's communicator from his side and striding back outside with it. Kirk tried to raise the ship several more times with McCoy's communicator. Then he tried again with Spock's. Nothing. They had lost contact with the ship and now, more significantly, had no way of getting Spock up to sickbay and the medical attention he needed. Kirk came back in, thought for a moment, and went back outside again. ''Kirk to Enterprise. I can transmit but not receive. Medical emergency. These co-ordinates. Immediate beam up.'' Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. ''Kirk to Enterprise. We have a medical emergency. If you can't beam us out, send a medically equipped shuttle craft. These co-ordinates.'' It was a gamble and probably not a good one, but he intended to do his customary best to beat whatever odds were being offered.

Despite himself, he turned his face to the skies straining at the heavens for the ship that should be there, somewhere, far beyond the ability of his eyes to see it. Fleeting shadows of doubt flickered momentarily in the dark recesses of his mind. What if some distant catastrophe had caused them to be ordered away? What if they were in trouble themselves?

But in the end, Kirk was nothing if not a pragmatist. Whatever perils the Enterprise might be facing he could do nothing about them down here. He might however be able to do something for Spock. Solve the problem you can. The mantra of a lifetime.

Kirk returned to Spock's chamber. ''Bones'' he said ''if the toxin is native to the planet then it is reasonable to suppose that Premier Varek, or someone on his medical staff, might know of an antidote''.

''Logical'' said McCoy without a hint of irony.

''Then, logically,'' said Kirk, his own use of the word wryly deliberate, ''we need to contact Premier Varek, or a member of his staff, as a matter of urgency.'' Kirk rose as he spoke, heading towards the heavy door by which they had entered the rooms they now occupied. Going back into the grand entrance hall, he called politely ''Premier Varek? Representative Tissoh? Anyone?'' Then, louder, with more authority. ''Premier Varek? Representative Tissoh?''

A minor official skittered nervously into view. Wringing his hands and apparently barely able to raise his eyes to meet Kirk's he announced ''Premier Varek attends.''

Striding from the shadows came Premier Varek. A small retinue in attendance; this the timid man joined, looking relieved to be once again one of many. ''My dear Captain Kirk,'' said Varek warmly ''are you sufficiently rested?''

''Yes,'' said Kirk ''but one of my party has been taken ill.''

''The Vulcan? So soon?'' enquired Varek ''this is a very auspicious omen. I grant it is perhaps unfortunate when viewed strictly from your perspective Captain, but when it is viewed from the greater perspective the sacrifice of this one life is a but a passing shadow.''

''What?'' stumbled Kirk, made momentarily inarticulate.

''What the Oracle demands, the Oracle must have'' intoned Varek. His retinue nodded sagely behind him.

Kirk attempted clarification, struggling to remain mindful that he was on a diplomatic mission and forming each word carefully, ''Are you saying that Spock is ill because you need a sacrifice for an Oracle?''

''The Oracle of the Deep'' said Varek, giving all the appearance of a man who expected that this alone was both justification and explanation.

''Your words hold no meaning for me'' said Kirk, barely hanging on to his temper. ''Explain further.''

''The Oracle of the Deep is one of our most revered sanctuaries'' said Varek earnestly. ''It is many thousands of years old and has been a place of continuous veneration for all that great expanse of time. The Oracle holds two peoples sacred: those of Vulcan and those of the Romulan Empire. It has the right to demand the life of any among its sacred peoples in tribute for the continuing peace and prosperity its grace bestows upon our world. Your First Officer is the sacrifice it required of us in seeking to join your Federation. Your Federation will have given tribute to the Oracle; the Oracle will bless our joining. All will be well.''

Slowly, deliberately, Kirk said ''All will not be well. You will have murdered a Starfleet officer. Such an act can only serve to damage your cause. The sacrifice of any sentient being is abhorrent to every member of the Federation. No one would support your case for entry. You still have time. Provide us with the antidote.''

Varek continued, oblivious to Kirk's rationale ''Our traditions regarding the means by which the sacrifice must be made can result in great suffering. We are not an uncivilised people. The sacrifice is rendered no less sacred for being tempered with mercy. We are willing to assist your Chief Medical Officer in any way that he requires to alleviate the suffering of the Sacred Dying.'' With that Varek swept past Kirk intent on doing honour to the 'Sacred Dying' in person.

McCoy left Spock's side on hearing Varek's approach, wanting to lose no time in greeting the Premier as he entered their rooms. ''Premier Varek'' he said ''Spock has been poisoned by some sort of toxin my tricorder can't identify. It's serious and I don't have an antidote. We haven't been able to raise our ship and it's imperative he gets treatment.''

''Is he yet in pain?'' asked Varek.

''No'' said McCoy, instantly disturbed by the implications of the question. ''Do you know what this toxin is?''

Kirk stood in the doorway leading from the great hall, listening to the conversation and hoping that the Doctor might have better luck.

''As it must be, either the venom of the black lizard or the bite of the holy beetle'' said Varek. He had nothing to hide, after all he had done nothing wrong. ''If it is the black lizard then the pain will be considerable. We will be happy to assist you in providing relief.''

''I've seen nothing consistent with a reptile bite'' said McCoy ''but he has an insect bite on the back of his hand.''

''That is good'' said Varek ''he is unlikely to regain consciousness before the end. I am much relieved.''

Relieved was not exactly how McCoy was feeling. ''Do you have an antidote?'' he pressed. He was seriously worried about Spock and, diplomacy or no diplomacy, he could feel his exasperation beginning to fray into anger.

If Varek was aware of this, he gave no sign. ''Both the black lizard and the holy beetle proliferate on our planet, their sacred venom is toxic only to those such as your honoured companion. We are blessed by the gift of these poisons, but have no need of a cure.''

McCoy at least had found an answer to the question of an antidote, but his temper was lost.

''You knew you had life forms on this planet that could kill a Vulcan and you said nothing? Spock could die. Do you understand? He could die. And what I want to know right now is exactly what do you intend to do about that?'' McCoy's fury had increased with the speaking and he was now visibly shaking. McCoy filled with a righteous rage was a force to be reckoned with and Varek took an involuntary step backwards.

''What the Oracle demands, the Oracle must have'' Varek repeated with decidedly less serene dignity than before. It didn't seem much of a defence against the blaze in McCoy's eyes.

''What Oracle?'' McCoy blasted back.

''The Oracle of the Deep holds sacred two peoples'' began Varek uncertainly and a little too quickly, unable to lift his gaze from McCoy's phaser. He was not at all sure that the Doctor was not about to do him violence. ''The Vulcan and the Romulan are of the Oracle. The Oracle is of them. It gave them life at the beginning of all things and has the right to demand their tribute in blood.''

''And the Vulcan and Romulan are just required to give up their life's blood without a murmur?'' breathed McCoy inches from Varek's face. ''You invent for them an Oracle and sacrifice them in its name and they are just expected to go along with it? What kind of people are you?''

''We did not invent the Oracle'' protested Varek, as vehemently as he dared ''it has always existed. It will always exist. It is the Oracle.''

''Well it is not having this tribute'' thundered McCoy pointing furiously in the direction of Spock's chamber behind him. ''I do not accept your Oracle or its lust for blood. I intend to fight it with everything that medical science has to offer.''

Varek turned back in Kirk's direction, looking for some sign that he was minded to call off his hound. Kirk held Varek's gaze and said nothing. Varek hesitated, uncertain what to do next. ''I will leave now'' he said tentatively, abandoning the idea of paying respectful homage to the Sacred Dying. Inexplicably, these men of the Federation actually seemed genuinely incapable of recognising the magnitude of the honour the Oracle had bestowed upon them.

''What about my ship'' said Kirk, still in the doorway. And, for that matter, Varek's way. ''Why can't I contact it?''

Varek, looking to manoeuvre past Kirk, searched nervously for a form of words that would not prove a further provocation ''You will be able to re-establish normal communications...afterwards'' he said escaping on that last word, with unseemly haste, back into the great hall and the reassuring fold of his respectfully waiting retinue.

That was all Kirk needed. Confirmation his ship was still up there. All he had to do now was to find a way to reach it.


	3. Sacred Dying - Chapter 3

McCoy was still shaking when he returned to Spock's side. The Doctor had once made an oath to heal. Keeping that oath had been his life's work. He had renewed that oath today in anger and he would move heaven and earth in keeping faith with it.

''First order of business, we need to find a way to contact the ship'' said Kirk having followed McCoy into Spock's chamber. He was addressing the Doctor, or rather the back of the Doctor's head, but his gaze was fixed on Spock; as was McCoy's.

''He's very pale Jim'' said McCoy following his own train of thought. ''His life signs are barely registering. I can't tell if that's because he's trying some self-hypnotic Vulcan healing voodoo or because we're losing him. I can't fight for him down here. He needs to be in a properly equipped medical facility. Holding his hand and crossing my fingers just isn't going to do it. I can't begin to manufacture an anti-toxin with just a tricorder and wishful thinking. I need a fully functioning medical laboratory.''

Kirk put his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. ''I'll find you a way'' he said gently. ''I'm not ready to lose him yet either.''

McCoy looked up. He had been voicing his own worries as a way of lightening the load, he hadn't intended for Kirk to take up the burden of them. ''I'm sorry Jim'' he said wearily ''you have enough on your shoulders.''

''We need to find a way of contacting the ship. It's the answer to all our problems'' repeated Kirk. McCoy managed half a smile for his Captain. For Kirk all solutions proceeded directly from having his feet planted securely on the deck plates of his command. For a Doctor things were not so simple. Spock could die just as thoroughly on the Enterprise as he could down here. Getting Spock back on board the Enterprise might not be enough. Telling Kirk that it might not be enough could wait until those deck plates were where the Captain could feel them.

''Somewhere on this planet is the technology to black out our communications. I intend to find that equipment and I intend to disable it'' said Kirk purposefully picking up Spock's tricorder. He walked with it back through the sitting room and out into the courtyard garden. Had they really sat here only fleeting hours ago? Had Spock been well only those few short hours ago?

An early dusk was falling. The air had a faint chill in it. Kirk began a wide beam scan, searching methodically for anything resembling an energy signature. He walked slowly round the small garden scanning in every direction. McCoy was right, there were limitations to what a tricorder could do, but it was none the less a formidable piece of equipment.

A faint energy signature registered to the east. Kirk narrowed the field. Yes, definitely an energy signature and its profile was consistent with a communications hub. It might not be what was jamming their communicators but anything capable of transmitting held out the promise of raising his ship. The readings indicated the energy signature was emanating from a low storey structure approximately a mile away.

Kirk pondered taking McCoy with him. He had no idea how heavily secured such a facility might be. Premier Varek and Representative Tissoh seemed to be entirely without security. The rooms they had been given were unguarded. No one had taken their phasers. It was a diplomatic mission; there was an implicit assumption on both sides that they would not be used, but surrendering them was often part of the dance of diplomacy. No one had required it. It was possible that such concepts were as alien here as the concept of ritual sacrifice would be on the home worlds of the Federation.

And what of Spock? If McCoy were absent would Varek be tempted to hasten his passing to rid himself of their presence? Then again Varek might not need to do anything, Spock was dangerously ill. What if he just died? Alone? This last thought made the decision for him. Spock might die. The time for that may yet be coming. But Spock would not die alone.

Kirk hurried back to McCoy, picking up the abandoned communicators as he did so. ''I have a reading'' he said ''about a mile to the east.'' McCoy looked up at Kirk, ready to comply with his any order, but unable to hide the hesitation in his eyes. ''I want you to stay here'' said Kirk.

McCoy was a loyal officer, part of the art of command was to know when not to call on that loyalty. When not to demand of a man the sacrifice of his conscience. Medicine had called the Doctor first and medicine called him now.

''I'll keep Spock's tricorder'' said Kirk. He flipped open one of the communicators and tried using it to call the other two. Each responded in turn. ''Just ship to shore then'' he said with energy, his spirits buoyed by finally having something to do. ''If l'm successful you'll know, if not I'll try to call in. In that eventuality use your own discretion. I'm leaving no orders.''

McCoy nodded grimly. Spock's death would follow hard on the heels of Kirk's failure. His choices would revolve around trying to get back to the ship with the body of at least one of these men. The Enterprise would be plunged into mourning, possibly for both senior officers. For him personally and professionally the diplomatic fallout would be of secondary concern.

Kirk headed off at an athletic dog trot. Covering the ground with ease, the tricorder in his hand. Half formed plans turning over in his mind as the minutes passed until he was at the perimeter fencing. Some security at least then. But no alarm. At least no audible alarm.

Kirk kept low, the rapidly deepening twilight obscuring his view, but then the same would be true in reverse. He crept along the fencing peering at the building it surrounded, looking for a way in. A black metal staircase rose halfway up one wall, leading to a short walkway which ended in what looked like a wooden door let into the side of the building. There was a window in the top half of the door through which shone a soft yellow light.

Kirk scanned the fence for any signs of electrification. Nothing registered so he scrambled over as quietly as he could. Still keeping low he made a dash for the stairs. He paused at the bottom waiting for a sign of his having been seen. Nothing. He deftly slipped the strap of the tricorder over his head and across his chest, freeing his hand to draw his phaser. All his senses on alert and the phaser on stun, he crept up the stairs and along the walkway until he reached the door. He paused, there was a murmur of voices on the other side. He lent closer trying to ascertain where the voices were located.

A sudden burst of laughter punctuated the low murmuring, reminding him that for some people this was just another day in the uneventful routine of life. The laughter had been muffled, the voices were not near the door. He tried pulling the handle, the door stayed put. He tried pushing, the door gave. He opened it wider, just enough for him to slip through. The door opened onto another wider walkway which ran round the interior of the entire building, stairs leading to the ground floor were set along it at regular intervals. The voices were downstairs; amplified by the acoustics of the building's cavernous architecture.

Kirk crept along the walkway trying to glimpse the communications hub that must be here somewhere. The great open space beneath him was filled with something which he interpreted as turbines. Kirk struggled to discern the purpose of the building. Scotty would have grasped it in a flash, understanding the purpose and evaluating its efficiency instantly. What subtle deceits had Varek spun to keep the ever busy engineer from pushing his luck and beaming them up immediately communications had failed?

Then he saw it, against the far wall. It was large and didn't look particularly sophisticated, but it was clearly powerful enough to transmit through the atmosphere and reach the Enterprise and possibly powerful enough to be the jamming device he was looking for. And it was unattended and partially obscured by one of the turbines. Whose angels did he have to thank for that, his own or Spock's?

Kirk worked his way round the walkway to the set of stairs closest to the hub. He descended quietly and swiftly. Running his tricorder over its bulky construction his suspicions were confirmed. This was indeed the jamming device. He aimed his phaser directly at it, playing the beam repeated across it with one hand while flipping open his communicator with the other.

Almost immediately the hub began popping and fizzing as circuits blew, within seconds small explosions rocked the interior. Simultaneously Kirk called his ship ''Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise'' and was rewarded by Scotty's voice acknowledging the hail. ''Get us out of here Scotty'' he ordered simply.

The smell of fried circuits and the noise and the smoke had alerted the workers. Initially startled, they had now rallied and were headed his way. Fortunately, the violence with which he had announced himself had made them wary and they stopped just short of overwhelming him. He smiled his most charming smile and was just about to deliver an absurdly implausible explanation when the familiar tingle of the transporter saved him the trouble.


	4. Sacred Dying - Chapter 4

He re-materialised alone. ''McCoy? Spock?'' he demanded of the operator.

''Sickbay'' said the young woman simply as Kirk, glancing a smile by way of thanks, hurried out of the transporter room. Desperately worried though he was about Spock, he once again had some four hundred souls looking to him to be the ship's calm and commanding keystone. His first duty was to the bridge. Firstly he needed to report to Starfleet; they needed to know what had happened and by now Spock's absence would be being felt. Not everyone found his presence an easy one, but his absence could be worse.

Kirk bounded through the turbolift doors onto the bridge and into his chair, giving Scotty almost no notice to vacate it. The engineer, unphased, lost no time in heading back to his beloved engines. Scotch and anti-matter; the volatile cocktail of life as far as Scotty was concerned. The absence of one could be weathered, but he was adrift in uncertain waters if neither could be had for too long and he had been away from both since Kirk had left him in command.

''Open a channel to Starfleet headquarters'' said Kirk. Uhura, who had anticipated the order, already had the frequency open and patched him through.

When he had potted the eventful day into the prosaic language of bureaucracy, he finally allowed himself to give in to the unaccustomed exhaustion which anxiety, frustration and exertion had conspired to produce in him and headed to his cabin. He wanted to head to sickbay, but McCoy would have notified him of a change in Spock's condition and just now sickbay had priorities beyond catering to visitors, no matter how senior, no matter how worried. McCoy's job was Spock and he needed the space in which to do it.

Once in his cabin Kirk fell onto the bed and shut his eyes. Soothed by the steady hum of the ship, as familiar as his own heartbeat, sleep came swiftly. A deep, dreamless sleep. He was home and if all was not well now, this was the one place where hope of its being made well could be found.

He awoke hours later. He had something to eat, some coffee, showered, shaved, put on a new uniform, the familiar little rituals that made him feel human again. Then he contacted sickbay ''Kirk here. Report.''

McCoy answered. He sounded very tired. ''McCoy here. There's no change Jim. The lab's working flat out on isolating the toxin. We think it's a neuro-toxin of some sort. It's extremely potent. Uhura has contacted Vulcan in case they've run across it before. It could give us a head start in finding a treatment.''

''OK Bones'' said Kirk. ''Get some rest. That's an order.''

Kirk made his way to the bridge. The sleep had done him good. His mind felt clear. His often astounding reserves of energy replenished. As he stepped from the turbolift onto the bridge his eyes flicked involuntarily to Spock's vacant science station. The chair stood empty. Chekov would be on duty soon. The post, and the chair, would be filled. But Kirk relied on his First Officer for so much more. Having him absent felt like an open sore.

''Sir'' said Uhura ''message received from Cestros 12. Premier Varek. He informs us that he has registered the highest possible protest with both Starfleet headquarters and the Federation. He requests our immediate departure.''

Kirk was more than happy to oblige the Premier. ''Inform Starfleet headquarters that we are leaving orbit as requested and continuing on to Star Base six as previously ordered.''

''Shall I inform Premier Varek that we are leaving orbit?'' said Uhura.

Kirk could think of a number of things of which he would like to inform the Premier, but in deference to the sensitivities of his Communications Officer and the hopes he had for a long and happy career in Starfleet he simply said ''Yes.'' Time would take care of the Premier. There was little doubt now that accession to the Federation would be denied. Vulcan would be informed of the hazardous lifeforms, both sentient and non sentient, on Cestros 12. Starfleet would ensure an all ships warning went out and would likely follow that up with a warning beacon close to the navigation lanes nearest the planet.

As usual, although there were no direct lines of communication to the Romulan Empire, the news would filter through. Kirk knew that ironically his next mission may well be to plant his ship firmly between Premier Varek, his people, their Oracle and the highest protest the Romulans might wish to register.

Spock's empty chair hovered in the periphery of his vision. Kirk couldn't deny himself any longer. ''I'll be in sickbay'' he said, heading for the turbolift. It took only minutes to get to sickbay, but once at the doors Kirk hesitated. He took a second to gather his thoughts before entering.

Spock lay on a bed close to the door. Even to Kirk's untutored eyes the readout panel above his head looked disturbing. He was on full life support. The room offered few vantage points from which the machine did not obscure his face from view. Kirk stood in one of them.

Christine Chapel came out of a room behind Kirk and stood beside him. ''Dr McCoy is resting'' she said, nodding in the direction from which she had just come.

''How is he?'' said Kirk, intent only on Spock. In here with only Christine to see he could put off his rank and give in to worry.

''The lab have isolated the toxin. The Vulcans haven't been able to match it exactly, but their archive has a record of something with a similar molecular structure. They've sent us everything they have. The lab is trying to work up an anti-toxin now'' she said. Then, dropping her gaze and her tone, she added ''Dr McCoy has informed his parents.''

Slowly, slowly, with each passing hour, an oppressive deathbed atmosphere was descending on sickbay. Kirk could feel it. Christine could feel it. He wondered if Spock's sensitive telepathy could feel it. Was the Vulcan still fighting or making his peace with the universe?


	5. Sacred Dying - Chapter 5

Hours passed in shipboard routine. Kirk had taken to angling himself into the corner between the arm and the back of his self-righting command chair. It was doing nothing for his spine, but it obscured his view of Spock's customary place on the bridge. Kirk had never been much good at waiting. Patience was not a virtue gifted him. He had mastered its semblance through training and discipline but it was an uneasy fit.

The turbolift doors hissed softly open behind him and McCoy stepped down to stand at the arm of his chair. McCoy divined much more than he gave voice to and the reason for Kirk's current posture was not lost on him. ''We're ready Jim'' he said soberly.

''OK Bones'' said Kirk, following the Doctor off the bridge. Together they walked briskly to the sickbay. Once there they found three med-lab technicians and Nurse Chapel, already positioned near Spock's bed, awaiting their arrival.

Kirk had requested to be present, but had only a basic grasp of the procedure about to be performed. The lab technicians were hooking up a small machine, not much larger than a tricorder, to the life support equipment. The machine stood on a small trolley near the head of Spock's bed. McCoy stood near the machine.

Kirk positioned himself a little way off, not wanting to be in the way. Nurse Chapel came to be with him. ''It's a filtration unit'' she said quietly. ''They will pass Spock's blood through it.'' Kirk looked at the Nurse. Here beside him she was all professional detachment, but there was a hint of redness about her eyes which told him she had been weeping. ''There is a filtration matrix inside the machine'' she continued. ''It has been programmed with a profile of the toxin. Spock's blood will cycle through the matrix up to six times, each time some of the toxin will be scrubbed. It is then transfused back to the patient.''

The technicians had apparently finished hooking up the filtration unit and were laying out a tray with three hyposprays on it. They placed it out of Kirk's sight somewhere on the far side of Spock's bed and left the room. ''The anti-toxin?'' he said softly to the Nurse. They were almost whispering now.

''No'' said Nurse Chapel. ''It's taken hours to process what little we have. It would take hours more to manufacture that much. To produce enough for an effective course of treatment would take days.''

''Time Spock doesn't have'' said Kirk in solemn comprehension.

''No, he doesn't'' she said, bravely professional, ''but now we have the filtration unit programmed it can physically scrub most of the poison out of his system. The little anti-toxin we do have should then be enough.''

There was something else, he could see it in her face. ''And the hypos...?'' he prompted gently. She looked at him, the tears he had suspected threatening to fill her eyes again.

''It hurts'' she said, a tremble in her voice. ''It hurts and we can't be certain of what he can still endure. As the poison is withdrawn his muscles will start to spasm. It will get worse as more of the toxin is removed. The hypos have a relaxant in them, but we don't dare administer more than you saw, it's too dangerous.''

''Can't you sedate him?'' suggested Kirk getting caught up in the Nurse's emotion.

''Not enough, not for this'' she said. ''We've given him something, but it's not going to be enough for this.''

''How long will it take?'' said Kirk. He was now staring intently at Spock. Was that then the choice? Which would take him first, the poison or the cure? Was there so little hope?

''Four hours'' she said bleakly. As she spoke the first of Spock's poisoned green blood oozed through the tubing into the filtration unit. Kirk could hear the precision gearing within the mechanism whining softly to itself.


	6. Sacred Dying - Chapter 6

Almost an hour had passed. McCoy hadn't left Spock's side, constantly monitoring both his patient and the medical equipment. Nurse Chapel had wheeled together some seats for both herself and Kirk. They sat at a distance as if McCoy were giving some sort of macabre recital just for them. Kirk's gaze never left the Vulcan's face, he searched it endlessly for the minutest sign that the procedure was working. The room was silent except for the bleeps and whirs of the ceaselessly toiling machines.

Gradually one of the indicators on the board above Spock's head began to creep up. Nurse Chapel was immediately alert to it. She stood up and walked with calm efficiency to the tray of hypos. As she reached it a low insistent warning tone began to sound from the life support machine. McCoy, never lifting his gaze from Spock, wordlessly held out his open hand to receive the hypo from her. Nurse Chapel placed it firmly in his palm. There was a gentle hiss as McCoy emptied it into Spock's shoulder. The warning tone died away and the indicator fell back. The choreography of their medical ballet over, Nurse Chapel resumed her seat beside the Captain. They were quite a team the Doctor and the Nurse, reflected Kirk.

The minutes ticked by, ten minutes, twenty, thirty, forty. An uncharacteristic sheen of perspiration was now visible on the Vulcan's face. The indicator had crept back up again and the warning tone had been sounding for some few minutes. Kirk turned to the Nurse. ''It's too soon'' she said.

Fifty minutes, an hour. Spock's body had begun to twitch and tremble. The indicator had reached halfway up the board and a new alarm was duetting with the first. Kirk turned again to the Nurse. Surely now? But she resolutely held her seat. Seventy minutes, eighty, ninety. Finally she rose. A second hypo was administered as wordlessly as the first. This time the indicator did not fall and the warning tones did not cease, but the trembling and twitching subsided. Nurse Chapel resumed her seat next to Kirk.

The minutes moved on, nearly three hours had now passed. Kirk watched as the tremors started to reclaim Spock's body. They increased in intensity as the minutes crawled by. Fifty more minutes and this would be all over, thought Kirk. Inwardly he began to count down each painful second. Forty minutes and this would be all over. There was no longer any need of machines to register Spock's distress, he was whimpering, pitifully and barely audibly. Kirk knew now the reason Christine Chapel had wept.

Thirty minutes. The tremors wracking Spock's body were now so violent that the bed was shaking with him. Twenty. The med-lab technicians returned. Ten minutes. McCoy administered the final hypo as the last of the filtered blood was transfused back, but Spock's torment continued unabated. Nurse Chapel left the room and returned minutes later with a single hypospray laid out on a tray. The anti-toxin presumed Kirk. She took it to McCoy's side, he pressed it against Spock's trembling shoulder and Kirk heard the soft hiss of the anti-toxin being driven in to do its work. The technicians detached the filtration unit from the life support unit, wheeling it, and the trolley upon which it stood, out of sickbay. Kirk left his chair to stand where the unit had been. Gradually, mercifully, the tremors rocking Spock's body began to subside. He seemed less anguished now, but he was still deathly pale. Kirk glanced up at the board above his head. McCoy was collecting up the discarded trays and hypos for Nurse Chapel to dispose of. ''The worst is over Jim'' he said ''but he needs rest. We've put him through hell.''

''How are you Bones?'' said Kirk.

''I guess I could do with a little rest myself'' said the Doctor. He said it, but Kirk knew he wouldn't leave the Vulcan's side until his recovery was a little more certain.

A last faint tremor shuddered through Spock's body and he was finally still. Still and silent as the grave.


	7. Sacred Dying - Chapter 7

Kirk's duties and a few snatched hours of sleep kept him out of sickbay for almost a full twenty four hours. When he finally returned he was heartened to see the life support unit was gone.

Spock lay still and pale. Christine Chapel, her back to Kirk and oblivious of his arrival, was holding vigil at Spock's bedside. She was cradling one of his hands in hers. After a long moment and with infinite gentleness, she laid his hand back at his side. She paused a moment longer, delicately running her fingers across his forehead along the dark line of his hair. Then she straightened and turned. Her face was a picture of consternation when she saw Kirk.

Kirk, always inclined to chivalry and touched by the tenderness he had witnessed, simply said ''How is he?''

It was McCoy who answered, coming into the room from behind Kirk. ''He's not out of the woods yet Jim, but all the indications are hopeful.'' The Doctor was looking at his Nurse over the back of Kirk's shoulder. Something in her expression gave her away. He knew Spock was special to her and guessed something of what might have occurred. Spock's internal workings were a Chinese puzzle box to the Doctor but he respected, and was grateful for, the kind forbearance with which the Science Officer customarily dealt with this particular issue. Spock in many ways was a gentle soul adrift in an unyielding universe. But he was also a determinedly Vulcan soul, and he was now vulnerable. McCoy sometimes astounded himself by how protective of the Vulcan he could feel. Perhaps it was Spock's resolute honesty, that left the Vulcan with so few defences of his own, which spoke to McCoy's own, old world, brand of chivalry. Or perhaps it was just that he was a Doctor and had a Doctor's instincts for thwarting suffering. In any event Spock should be spared this particular burden until he was strong enough to take it up again.

''Nurse Chapel'' said the Doctor ''I'm sure you have many more pressing duties to attend to. It is entirely unnecessary for you to sit with Mr Spock'' The rebuke was gently given and well taken. Nurse Chapel left immediately.

Kirk had moved forward to take her place at Spock's bedside and was staring down into his face. McCoy came up beside him. ''The signs are hopeful'' he repeated with gentle earnestness, putting a hand on Kirk's shoulder.

''I've never seen him like that'' said Kirk, who hadn't been able to shake the piteous sound of Spock's near silent whimpers. ''He must never know that he was like that. You can never tell him; it would destroy him'' he said.

McCoy folded his arms and said ''Jim, I don't make a practice of undermining my patient's recovery.''

Kirk turned to the Doctor. ''I'm sorry Bones'' he said. ''It's just it's Spock. Spock. I've seen him in pain before, injured before, I've seen him face death before, yes tormented physically, even emotionally, but never so...so...''

''Vulnerable?'' prompted McCoy. ''Jim, Spock is a man. Not a computer. I know it's easy to overlook that, and his stiff necked Vulcan pride is happy to go out of it's way to have you overlook it, but half of him is every bit as human as you or I. That he is capable of being vulnerable is not going to destroy him. Endless hand wringing about the possibility that it could, just might.'' Kirk's brow furrowed slightly as McCoy spoke. ''Jim, he doesn't need his hand holding. Or do I have to chase you out of sickbay too?''

Kirk's brow relaxed a little and he gave a wry smile. ''Point made Doctor'' he said.

''Good'' said McCoy satisfied. Both men regarded Spock in silence for some minutes; the Vulcan's gentle breathing the only audible sound.

''You know Bones, I miss him'' said Kirk. ''He's here and he's alive, but that's not enough. The bridge just isn't the same without him. We're not the same without him.''

''I know'' said McCoy ''I wouldn't admit as much to him, or probably anyone but you, but he does kind of get under the skin.''

''I thought you'd like him like this'' said Kirk, gently teasing, ''he's in no position to give you an argument.''

''I'll like it better when he's awake and I can be sure there's no permanent damage'' said McCoy with some feeling.

''You said the signs were hopeful'' said Kirk, worried now that the Doctor had been protecting his Captain's feelings at the cost of the truth.

''They are'' said McCoy ''but the toxin is new to our medical sciences. Spock's only half Vulcan. Any combination of the two could result in the unexpected. The curse of medicine is the unexpected.''

Kirk's years of command had developed in him a sixth sense for the unexpected, his own internal early warning system. Now he directed his eyes towards Spock once more, peering at him intently for any sign that more was wrong than there appeared to be, waiting for that personal red alert to sound. McCoy watched Kirk, he had gazed at the Vulcan himself, in that self same manner, waiting for the years of training and experience to sound an alert, but there had been nothing. They were in the dark, the Captain and the Doctor, and were likely to remain so until the Vulcan made up his mind either to leave the world or rejoin it.

Uhura's voice broke their introspection ''Captain Kirk to the bridge. Captain Kirk to the bridge.''

''Keep me posted'' said Kirk as he left for the bridge, recalled to his own duties and leaving McCoy to his.

McCoy remained, watching Spock's chest rise and fall with regular, reassuring, monotony. He knew it was now that the steady routine of nursing would start. The days and nights of simply caring for somebody. The waiting and hoping. He noted the readings on the panel above Spock's head, as he would again and again in the days to come, until the question of damage was decided one way or another.

McCoy's days now fell into a steady routine, matters arising, crew illnesses, minor injuries, staffing issues, medical bulletins, medical briefings and the one constant through all of it: Spock. McCoy monitored and recorded as the early, hopeful, indications began to blossom and bear fruit. Spock slowly, day by day, improving. He was seriously ill, but no longer dangerously so. He was unquestionably ill, but no longer seriously so. Each day progress. Each day the hope of his waking up, recovered and well, seemed a little more certain. But it was not today, it was never today.


	8. Sacred Dying - Chapter 8

Kirk's days also fell into an easy pattern of routine. At least once every twenty four hours he would drop in on sickbay, McCoy was usually there, Spock always.

Spock may not have regained consciousness, but McCoy's continuing prognosis was hopeful. The Vulcan's colour, such as it was, was returning. To Kirk he seemed a little more himself everyday. The Captain lived in expectation of the day when his First Officer would resume his duties. Today Kirk was on his way to his quarters when he detoured to stop by sickbay.

McCoy was at a desk not far from Spock, peering at slides. ''I have no idea what this is Jim'' he said, without looking up ''what made you think I would?''

''Well I was hoping that if you didn't you could find out'' said Kirk.

''Jim, I'm a Doctor not a micro-biologist. This needs to go to life sciences. They can tell you what it is. I have patients and there's a new protocol for quarantine I need to read up on.''

''Have we got anyone in quarantine?'' said Kirk suddenly concerned that he had somehow, inconceivably, allowed his usually tight grasp of the ship's affairs to slip.

''No of course not'' said McCoy ''but should it become necessary, animal, vegetable or mineral, it would be nice if the ship's surgeon actually had some idea of what he was doing.''

''That'' a familiar and too long absent voice said from across the room ''would certainly be an Enterprise first.'' Propped up on his elbows and peering rather short sightedly at them was Spock.

Kirk shot a look of concern at McCoy. ''Side effect of prolonged unconsciousness'' McCoy practically whispered ''his eyes are not constructed quite the same as ours, it takes the muscles a little while to co-ordinate.''

Kirk and McCoy crossed to be with the Vulcan who was now attempting to sit up, which he achieved, swing his legs over the side of the bed, which he also achieved, and stand up. This last was not so successful; McCoy and Kirk, catching an arm each as his legs buckled under him, hoisted him back onto the bed. ''Let that be a lesson to you'' said McCoy ''you can't spend the better part of ten days in bed without some after effects.''

''Ten days?'' queried Spock.

''Ten days'' said Kirk, emphatically.

''You've had us quite worried'' said the Doctor with a little more sentiment than Spock was comfortable with.

''Well I feel fully capable of resuming my duties now'' he said.

Much as Kirk had felt the Vulcan's absence he wasn't going to allow that. ''We'll let Dr McCoy check you over before we consider that'' he said. Spock knew that any argument on this point would prove fruitless, so he sat Buddha-like on the bed pondering his next move.

''Perhaps in that case I might be allowed to pursue some personal research from sickbay, until the good Doctor has finished with his incantations and rattling his beads'' said Spock.

Kirk stared at the Vulcan incredulously; had he really been so afraid for Spock's life only days ago. Had Spock's suffering caused him to fear for the balance of the Vulcan's mind only days ago? Had he and McCoy burdened themselves with so much worry for evidently so little cause?

Kirk couldn't help himself. This, courageous to the point of foolhardiness, independent, stubborn, sometimes naive, always loyal, unflinchingly rational and not quite fully recovered Vulcan was impossible.

Perhaps a little giddy with relief, and tickled by Spock's increasingly quizzical countenance, he started to laugh. McCoy, having carried the lion's share of the care and worry for the ship's First Officer during the last ten days, was caught by the Captain's mood and began laughing too. Uninterrupted and unable to stop, the two men laughed until they were weak, hanging onto each other for support.

Spock, somewhat alarmed and utterly perplexed, looked on. There were some aspects of human behaviour, he feared, that were destined always to elude him.

END


End file.
